Beyond the Pale
by marinawings
Summary: The Winchester brothers, along with allies Bobby and Castiel, must find their way and fight their way out of a diabolical labyrinth, while also rescuing the innocents trapped there.
1. The Danger of Demons

I am so glad to be writing Supernatural again! I missed it!

A few notes: This story is not a straight-up sequel to my previous SPN fic, _Breath and Bones_, but it does make a few references to it, so you might want to check it out, too. Also--back again is my amazing beta-reader, amyblair, to whom I offer thanks. Also, thanks goes to daisyduke80 for her enthusiasm for this whole idea. So... yay!

Enjoy!

Chapter One

The sky was dark and fearsome, roiling and undulating with clouds of deep blue and heavy gray. Lightning lit up the clouds with an ominous glow, followed by thunder that rocked the sky and made the window rattle.

Dean Winchester tried not to shiver, pulling his jacket closer around him as he turned from the window to fake a smile at the man across the room. Dean was getting good at that--faking smiles. He didn't like it. And right now, he'd rather be throwing punches than smiling.

"So… We've reached an impasse." Dean lifted his chin and swaggered toward the man across the room, hoping to God he looked confident, powerful, in control. The man standing by the fire appeared unfazed. Dean's confidence took a nosedive. "Whaddaya say we get this over with?" He reached into his jacket and withdrew a stake. Its tip was darkened with the blood of a dead man. "We can deal with this like reasonable men, or…" He shrugged. "I can gank you. It's your choice."

The vampire smiled slowly, his eyes reflecting murkily in the flash and spark of the fire. "Imagine that." His voice was velvety smooth and oh so reasonable. "Dean Winchester offering mercy to a vampire." His grin widened, exposing wickedly sharp canines.

Dean managed a smile. "Yeah. Well. I'm magic."

"I think not." The vampire sighed and lifted his chin, turning toward the fire. He looked to all the world like an average human being--of medium height, lightly tanned, with a slightly receding hairline. He appeared to be perhaps in his late thirties. In reality, he was probably closer to one hundred and thirty. "Well, well." He sighed with an air of condescending patience. "I suppose your idea of dealing with the situation reasonably would be for me to reveal the location of my… guests."

Dean inclined his head to the vampire, gritting his teeth. This guy was getting on his every last nerve…

"I'm afraid one of us must not be a reasonable man." The vampire's smooth smile turned nasty. "Though I'm not sure which one of us it is."

"Well right now, it's probably me," Dean growled, tightening his grip on the stake. "'Cause I'm about to throw reason to the wind and just stab you."

"You're right, Dean. That _wouldn't _be reasonable," the vampire replied amiably. He held out his hands to the fire, as if warming himself. Dean imagined pushing the creature into the flames… "If you kill me, you may never find out where I have placed my guests."

Dean swallowed down the berserk rage rising within him. "Fine. You've got me there." He slid the stake back into his jacket. "I guess you'd like to make a deal, then."

"Like a reasonable man. Of course." The vampire flashed the hunter a charming, ironic smile, then sighed and looked around the elegant parlor, eyes warm with affection. "I do love this place, but…" Again he sighed, theatrically. "If I must, I will let it go."

Dean frowned, irritated with his opponent's theatrics. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a deal." The vampire leveled his eyes with Dean's, and this time, there was no play-acting, no pretentious charm. The creature seemed to be serious, intensely so. "Let me pack my things and go peaceably, and I'll tell you where my guests are… hidden."

For some reason, Dean believed the vampire. Something in the man's eyes… Strangely, it seemed like fear. But Dean wasn't about to trust some strange gut instinct that led him into trusting a vampire. "As much as I'd like to agree to this deal, I don't know that I can." He took a few steps toward the vampire, hoping to seem at least a little bit menacing. "I'd be rescuing a few innocent people by taking your offer, but… How can I be sure that you won't just move on to some other neighborhood and start sucking people dry?"

"I'm tired, Dean," the vampire answered, and there was an odd note of weariness in his voice. Once again, Dean thought that he spotted fear in the creature's eyes. "This life of hunting and being hunted wears one thin."

_I can sympathize there, _Dean thought reluctantly.

"I plan on settling down in some busy area where people are too preoccupied with their own lives to notice if blood banks sometimes come up short or a few animals go missing," the vampire continued, his eyes turning back toward the fire. His shoulders slumped somewhat, flames reflecting in his dark eyes.

Dean frowned, confused. Where was the vampire's former arrogance? His refusal to compromise?

"Can you let me live, Dean? If I tell you where they are?" The dark creature's voice emerged softly, barely above a whisper.

Thinking fast, Dean replied, "I have a friend who's an angel, you know. You take one step outta line, and he'll know. And he'll lead me right to you, and I'll end you."

"I know." The vampire flinched, seeming to shrink into himself.

This was getting strange. "You know, eh?"

"Yes. Castiel." The vampire looked back at Dean. "That's your friend's name, right?"

Dean blinked. "Yeah. That's his name."

The vampire nodded. "I know of him." He jerked his shoulders back straight, lifting his chin. "Well. Shall we deal?"

"Guess so." Dean kept himself alert, still not sure he trusted this guy… Something strange was going on here--the fear in the vampire's eyes, the sudden change from arrogant to yielding… Dean found himself hoping that Sam and Bobby and Castiel were close by, that they had arrived on time, ready for anything.

"My guests are in the garden maze out back," the vampire said quietly, his eyes returning once again to the fire. "I suppose you saw it when you were outside?"

"Yeah. I saw it." Dean frowned. The twisted trees, grinning gargoyles, and dark hedges of the expansive maze behind the mansion had creeped him out. "So that's where you keep your victims. Nice." He narrowed his eyes on the vampire. "And all of a sudden, you're okay with giving me their location. That's convenient."

"Yes. Well." The vampire cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his dinner jacket.

An ominous feeling rushed over Dean's consciousness then, bringing with it a wicked cold chill. He took a step toward the vampire, all pretence of intimidation vanishing. He was serious now. "Who are you working for?" he asked quietly, his voice dangerously cold.

The flicker of fear brightened in the villain's eyes. "What--what do you mean?" he asked, smiling a fake smile that quickly began to crack.

"Who are you _working _for?" Dean growled. He reached out and grabbed hold of the vampire's collar, slinging the other man against a cherry-wood bookcase and bringing the blood-tipped stake up to the vampire's chest. "Tell me now, or I swear to God--"

"Swear to God." The vampire's eyes narrowed, the spark of fear dimming somewhat. "You and your angel friend and his precious God… You won't know what hit you."

"Ah, so now I see." And see Dean did. What he saw scared him and made him angry. "You're working for him aren't you? For Lucifer?"

The vampire sneered and lifted his chin stubbornly, in a gesture that Dean recognized as familiar. He had used it himself many times. "Figured it out, did you?"

"You're stalling." Dean tightened his grip on the fancy collar, grinning in satisfaction when the vampire gagged. "Who's on the way, punk?"

The vampire coughed out a laugh. "Someone you don't want to deal with."

Dean narrowed his eyes on his enemy and gave him a shake. "Looks like you don't want to deal with him, either, 'cause you seem pretty scared to me."

The vampire's defiance melted, eyes widening, voice faltering and losing its smoothness. "Look, I told you where my prisoners are. Just--just let me go, and I'll--I'll go straight. This demon scares the crap outta me. He's--he's nothing like I've ever seen."

That scared Dean, too. Just a little bit. "What's his name?" he asked gruffly.

"Just--just let me go," the vampire pleaded. "We can both get outta here, Winchester. The demon will be here soon, and--"

"What's his _name_?" Dean demanded.

"It's--I think it's Lysander."

Something twisted inside Dean--something acutely uncomfortable. "Lysander? Are you sure?" He and Sam had finished off that particular bad guy a few years ago--or so Dean had thought. If Lysander were truly on his way here… He would be packing a powerful demonic punch--and nursing a vengeful hatred for the Winchesters. "Did he escape from the Gate a few years back?"

The vampire nodded tightly. "Yeah. Yeah. I think he did. And he definitely seems to hate you. He set this whole thing up. I just--I just helped him out. He promised me--"

"Blood," Dean finished, gritting his teeth, sickened. "Human blood."

The vampire nodded.

Dean's knuckles whitened around the stake. He was tempted, ever so tempted, to finish this twisted creature here and now… But… "How much time do we have?"

"A few minutes… Half an hour at the most." The vampire swallowed audibly, visibly. "Please… Take me with you."

A coldness washed over Dean, a contempt for this creature, who would probably suck his life's blood if given the chance. "Why should I?" He loosened his grip slightly on the vampire. "You've killed innocent people. You deserve to die. I should leave you here to tell Lysander that you've failed."

The vampire's eyes closed then, hardened. "If that's the way you feel, then." His nervous expression began to slowly transform into a smug smile.

Dean's heartbeat thudded hard in his chest. This vampire seemed very comfortable playing head games… He pressed the tip of the stake a bit harder against his enemy's rib cage. He already knew where the prisoners were--and who was really behind this scheme. He could finish the vampire now, and--

"Dean."

The urgent sound of the familiar voice caused Dean to jerk his vision sideways, over his left shoulder. As he had thought, there stood Castiel. "Cas. What are you doing here?" It was early, _too _early. _Cas was supposed to wait with Sam and Bobby…_

"It's Lysander," Castiel replied, striding forward toward Dean and the vampire, his footsteps soft on the Persian rug. "He's the one behind this. This is a trap. We have to leave. Now."

"I know about Lysander… But what about the prisoners? We have to--"

"Sam and Bobby are working on that now," Castiel interrupted him. "Finish the vampire. We have to leave."

"Tell Sam and Bobby that the prisoners are--"

"Dean, look out!" Castiel called, taking a step forward.

Dean spun, flinging his arm up reflexively. His eyes widened at the sight of the wickedly curved dagger bearing down on him. In a split second, the blade glanced off Dean's forearm, nicking it just enough to draw blood. Biting back a yelp, Dean leaped back from the murderous vampire.

"I am so not taking you with me, you bastard," Dean snapped at the creature.

The vampire took a deep breath, closing his eyes, a strange smile alighting on his face. "Mmm. I can smell your blood, Winchester." He opened his eyes, the smile widening in a way that made Dean's skin crawl. "It's strong blood, isn't it?"

"Well you can't have it," Dean retorted, fighting the urge to throw up.

"I have a sample right here on my dagger." The vampire lifted the blade to his nose and inhaled deeply. "God, I'm hungry…"

Castiel abruptly stepped in front of Dean, one hand raised before him. "Then eat this," the angel bit out.

Dean blinked and smiled a bit. _Way to go, Cas! _His grin broadened as he waited in anticipation for the vampire to burst into flames or disintegrate into dust or something like that.

Instead, the chandelier overhead began to flicker rapidly, and the fire guttered with a sound like beating wings…

"Cas?" Dean held the stake before him, stepping up to his friend's side. His blood was suddenly cold in his veins.

"Something's wrong," the angel told him simply. He lowered his outstretched arm, keeping his eyes on the vampire. "Something's here."

The vampire grinned, straightening his shoulders. "Well, _gentlemen_," he sneered. "Looks like you've overestimated yourselves." He raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting crookedly as he slowly began to run his finger up and down the blade of his dagger. His eyes zeroed in on Dean. "Dean, I'm surprised you didn't recognize me."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. His voice emerged harsh and breathless. "Lysander."

The "vampire" smiled serenely as his eyes slowly filled in with shiny blackness. "The very same." The black drained from his eyes, and the smile faded from his lips. "Now. Shall we get down to business?"

Rage, fear, and curiosity mingled in Dean's psyche. "So… Being scared, working for someone else… All that was just a load of crap."

"I wouldn't say that." Lysander shrugged with an air of elegant nonchalance. "I would call it… a masterful ploy, a clever stratagem, impressive acting."

"Are there really any prisoners at all?" Dean demanded. His blood no longer felt cold. Now it was burning hot with rage, which was dimming all the other emotions wrestling within him. "Was that all part of your little… stratagem?"

"No, no. There are prisoners." Lysander drew a handkerchief from his breast pocket and methodically wiped the dagger clean. "Not to feed any blood thirst of mine, of course. They're only here to play the game."

"What game?" Dean asked, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

"You'll find out. Be patient." Lysander chuckled softly. "That was never your strong point, was it, Dean?" He sheathed the dagger in his dinner jacket, then reached into his mouth and began to tug at his teeth.

"I don't _believe_ this guy," Dean muttered. He turned to Castiel and whispered quickly, "What now?"

"Dean, this demon is very powerful, and I don't think he's working alone… otherwise, I would be able to exorcise him," Castiel told him quietly. "And I think perhaps he's more than a bit insane."

"Yeah, I can see that." Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself under control. "What about Sam and Bobby? Do you think they--?"

"Oh, by now they've figured out that something… unusual… is going on." Lysander's calmly spoken words jerked Dean's attention back to the demon. The creature was wiping down an elaborate set of false vampire teeth with his handkerchief. "You see, by now they've probably joined my guests in the game." His eyes blackened as they narrowed with wicked glee on Dean's face. "I suppose you'll want to try and rescue them."

"From what?" Dean growled. "What is this friggin' _game _you keep talking about?"

"I've already told you where the prisoners are, Dean," the demon replied with a long-suffering sigh.

Dean swallowed. "The maze."

"Very good, Dean." Lysander clapped his hands theatrically. "Yes, yes. They're in my labyrinth. You'll just have to go and fetch them."

"You don't really expect us to fall for such an obvious trap do you?" Castiel spoke up, frowning at the demon.

"I expect the two of you to go rushing into my labyrinth because that is the only option you've got," Lysander countered smoothly. "An angel with a very human sense of heroism and a brash young hunter with an angelic courage going to rescue the boy with demon blood and the old hunter past his prime…" He chuckled. Lightning flashed through the window, followed by a portentous rumble of thunder. The demon's laugh tapered to a soft cackle, and he sighed as if content. "This could be epic."


	2. The Closing of Gates

Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been so busy lately--getting ready for college graduation and settling into my new job. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter Two

Sam Winchester felt decidedly uncomfortable as he stared through the wrought iron gate that into the labyrinth. Something indefinable and threatening seemed to lurk behind the gate--and it wasn't just the pale mist that hung there. It was something else… Something--

"Evil." Bobby sighed wearily and shook his head. "This place is evil."

Sam nodded, convinced. "I think you're right." He frowned as he peered deeper into the maze and mist. "Castiel said the prisoners would be in here somewhere… And honestly?" He sucked in a tight breath through his teeth. "I don't really want to go in."

Bobby looked up at Sam with raised eyebrows, surprise and disapproval written on his craggy face.

Sam sighed. "But I'm going to. I have to." He looked down at his wheelchair-bound friend. "On the other hand, Bobby, you don't have to."

"Like hell I don't." Bobby scowled and reached under his wheelchair for the sawed-off shotgun stashed there.

Sam wasn't sure whether to smile or frown at that. _Actually, I think I'll be glad to have some company… _He smiled. "Okay. So--" He rubbed his hands together and rolled his shoulders back, trying to psyche himself for what was ahead. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Bobby replied shortly. He laid the shotgun across his lap and pressed a button on the armrest of his chair, propelling himself forward toward the gate. "Gate's open. That's convenient."

"And kind of suspicious," Sam added, walking alongside his companion. He glanced over his shoulder at the mansion, hoping to catch a glimpse of Dean or Castiel or preferably both. Instead, his eyes were assaulted by a glaring flash of lightning. Blinking, disconcerted, Sam turned back to the stone path that led through the gate.

"Ten bucks says that gate slams behind us," Bobby spoke up with a wry smile as the two men crossed the threshold into the labyrinth.

Sam half expected it to do so, but nothing happened. The young hunter held his breath, listening to the low rumble of thunder and the inordinately cheerful chirping of crickets.

"Hmf." Bobby shrugged. "For once, I'm glad I was wrong." He slowed his chair to a halt. "Where do we look first, boy?"

Sam scanned the view before him. The stone path instantly diverged into three separate paths--the outer two bordered by stone walls, the inner by tall green hedges. Mist hung heavy above each branch of the maze. Sam's brain worked frantically as he fought to decide. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. "Looks like we'll just have to try them all and find out."

"Without getting lost?" Bobby raised an eyebrow, then gave a short chuckle. "Never said the life of a hunter wasn't any fun. Look at us. We get to go through a maze--for free."

"That's one way to look at it, I suppose." Sam stepped toward the left branch of the path. "Guess we can try this one first." He hesitated and turned to face the older hunter. "Do you think we should wait for Dean and Cas?"

Bobby considered for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Probably should. Strength in numbers and all that."

Sam wasn't so sure. Maybe while Dean and Castiel were busy distracting whatever it was that was keeping these prisoners here, he and Bobby could break the people out… "Maybe we should go ahead and look for the people," Sam spoke up before he realized he was speaking.

Bobby narrowed his eyes on the younger man. "Having trouble making up your mind, Sam?"

A sharp, resounding clap of thunder cut off any reply Sam might be forming. His eyes turned instinctively toward the mansion, then narrowed as the lights within the old house flickered and died. "Come on, Dean," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Get out here."

He didn't have to wait long. Castiel and Dean were suddenly there, standing between Sam and Bobby. The angel had a grip on Dean's arm, and the hunter was pale and shivering.

Dean turned to Sam with a forced smile, withdrawing his arm from Castiel's grasp. "Don't fly Angel Air, Sammy. They don't turn the heat on."

"I apologize for your discomfort." The angel wore a look of deep--if somewhat befuddled--contrition. "I suppose humans are not accustomed to flying at such a rate of speed."

"Don't sweat it, Cas," Dean replied, shaking his head. Then he turned back to Sam. "It's Lysander who's doing this, Sam. Our old pal Lysander."

An uncomfortable feeling twisted in Sam's gut. "Lysander…" Unpleasant memories flashed through his mind--Lysander laughing at the Winchesters, Dean gasping for breath and coddling broken ribs, Sam and Dean trapped in a tiny rock room… The young hunter blinked. "This can't be good."

"It's not." Dean shook his head. "This guy is out for revenge. And he's got a nasty creative streak. He _wants _us to go into the maze, Sammy."

"Then we need to get a move on," Bobby spoke up. "We can't just sit here and talk about it. We've got innocent people to save."

"Bobby, that demon _wants _us to go in there," Dean pointed out, motioning to the paths of the labyrinth.

"So?" Bobby shrugged, then added dryly, "When has that stopped us before?"

Sam winced. "He has a point, Dean."

"I know, I know." Dean worked his jaw, staring down at the gravel path on which he stood. Then he smiled wryly and met Sam's eyes. "And honestly, I wasn't considering anything else. We have to get those people out of there. I just…" He sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I don't like this set-up."

"You are right not to trust Lysander," Castiel put in, stepping closer to the brothers and Bobby. "He is a demon, and I sensed from him unusual amounts of power and evil. And yet…" He tilted his head to one side, a thoughtful look on his face. "You are right. We cannot let his victims die."

"Then why are we standing around talking about it?" Bobby growled. "Let's get going."

"Right." Sam took a deep breath and turned to face the three branching paths. "So… Which way do we go?"

"Sensing anything, Cas?" Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder at the angel.

Castiel shook his head, frowning. "The paths all seem the same."

"Which means they're probably not," Bobby remarked with a sigh.

The four studied the three paths for a few moments. It took all of Sam's self control not to jump when thunder and lightning again shook the sky.

"We're gonna have to split up, aren't we?" Dean spoke up. His voice sounded weary, and Sam glanced sharply at him. "Just like we always have to do… Just like what happens in the movies before somebody gets wiped out," the elder brother continued.

It struck Sam suddenly that Dean didn't want to be alone… that maybe Dean never wanted to be alone. He studied his brother closely, frowning. "Dean, we don't have to split up."

"Well what else do you suggest, genius?" Dean asked shortly.

Sam sighed. "We split up."

Dean nodded, but still didn't seem happy with the inevitable. "So… Who goes where?"

Sam was about to answer when a chilling scream ripped through the darkness of the night.

Dean moved first, toward the central path, toward the sound of the scream. "Someone's in trouble. We gotta move!"

"Dean! Wait!" Castiel moved right behind him, sensing something Sam did not see or feel.

And before Sam knew what to do next, Dean and Cas were gone--and a towering wall of green sprung up where they had been, blocking the path they had taken--and locking them inside it.

Sam blinked, stunned, chilled, as he gazed up at the giant hedge separating him from his brother and their angelic buddy. "Bobby?"

Bobby swore. "Guess I don't have a choice. Looks like I'm stuck with you, kid."

* * *

Dean spun around, flinging himself against the prickly, verdant wall. "Sam!" he shouted, ignoring the scratching leaves. "Sam! Can you hear me?"

"He can't hear us, Dean."

Dean turned toward Cas with a sinking heart. "What do you mean? Why can't he hear us?"

"Listen." The angel looked toward the hedge. As Dean obeyed, there was utter silence. "They can't hear us. This is no ordinary hedge."

"Yeah, you're not freakin' kidding, are you?" Dean attempted to bite down his frustration, standing akimbo and grinding his teeth. "It's the size of Mount Saint Helens…" He shook his head. "And it magically blocks communication. Great. What now?" Before Castiel could answer, Dean answered himself. "We have to find whoever it is who's in trouble. Then we find a way out of this freakin' death trap."

"A death trap. Apt words." The angel nodded calmly. "This could be unpleasant."

"Come on." Dean brushed past Castiel, heading further down the hedged path. The wind whistled ominously through the prickly bushes, and in the distance, an owl hooted and thunder growled. A thick, bluish mist draped across the uneven stone path. The toe of Dean's boot caught on a jutting stone, but he managed to keep his footing. "Sensing anything, Cas?" he whispered, not sure why he was whispering now…

"Fear," the angel whispered in reply, imitating Dean's tone and volume perfectly--and perhaps subconsciously. "Someone in fear…"

_You sure it's not me? _Dean almost replied. "How far ahead?"

"Not far," Cas told him. A frown touched the angel's features. "We are in great danger." He suddenly stopped walking, his frown deepening.

Dean stopped as well, a tingle of fear running through his bones. _When angels are scared… _Instinctively, he drew his pistol. "Cas? What is it?"

"The fog is clearing," Castiel pointed out, motioning ahead. His eyes were wide. "And something is coming through."

Dean turned to face the path, aiming his gun and his flashlight toward the dissipating fog. He watched as the blue mist slowly broke apart, split down the middle. And something was indeed coming. He could hear its footsteps now. _Tap. Tap. Tap. _Something wearing shoes? Some_one_? Finally, a shape was visible, just beyond the flashlight beam, something long and narrow… "Cas?"

"It's afraid," the angel said quietly.

"_It_?"

"She," Castiel amended. "She." But he was still frowning. "She's afraid of us."

"Should I talk to her? …It?"

"You can try… But… I am unsure of her."

"Unsure," Dean muttered. "Peachy." He cleared his throat. "Hey!" he called toward the slender figure hovering in the darkness. "You don't have to be scared of us! We're here to help you!" He glanced sideways at Cas and muttered, "I think…" Then they waited.

At first, the shadowy figure remained as it was, staying just outside of the light. Then, slowly, it began to move forward again, with a _tip, tap, tip, tap. _It slipped into the light, revealing itself to be a tall, thin young woman with long, straight dark hair. She was dressed in a pale tank top and ragged jeans, her feet encased in what appeared to be… glass slippers.

Dean blinked. "Hey, lady, we're here to get you out. Was that--was that you screaming awhile ago?" He inched forward, Castiel shadowing his movement.

The girl stood there in the light, her head bowed, long, silky hair covering most of her face, her hands clasped before her. Everything about her was pale, save for that shiny, dark hair.

When they were only a few yards from the girl, Dean stopped walking and extended a hand. "Come on. Stick with us, and we'll--"

All of a sudden, the girl let out a scream--as heart-rending and earsplitting as the one before. She flung back her arms and her head, her back bowing with the force of her emotion. Dean couldn't help but jump back, running into his angel friend as he did so. "Cas, what the--?"

"She is bound," the angel told him quickly, also backing up.

An ominous feeling settled unpleasantly in Dean's stomach. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"She is bound to something dark, something evil," Castiel explained. "To free her will be very dangerous."

He hadn't even asked if not freeing the girl was an option. _He knows me, _Dean thought, and the idea almost made him smile. _Sam would have said the same thing… Sam… _

"Dean, we will need holy water," Castiel explained, cutting through Dean's sharp and sudden worry for his brother.

Dean nodded, kneeling on the ground and slipping his pack from his shoulders. "There's some in here." He glanced up at the door, who had stopped screaming and was now also kneeling on the ground, eerily mirroring his motions and staring at him through a curtain of dark hair. He shivered, fumbling through his pack. "What do we have to do?"

"This won't be easy," the angel replied.

A deep rumble vibrated down the stone path. At first Dean thought it was thunder… Then he shook his head, cursing under his breath. "I assume that's the 'something dark, something evil.'"

Castiel nodded. "That's it. And that's the hard part. It's coming."

* * *

"Guess we'd better pick a path and take it," Bobby announced, shaking Sam from his stunned reverie.

"Yeah. Yeah. You're right." Sam took a deep breath, letting it out in a thoroughly unsatisfied sigh, and shifted the pack slung across his shoulder. "Left or right?"

"Maybe we should inny-minny-miny-mo," Bobby suggested dryly.

"Let's just go this way," Sam decided, heading toward the left path. "It looks pretty even, and…" His voice trailed off as he glanced back at Bobby, at the wheelchair.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, son. I can make it. You just start walking, and I'll follow you."

"Alright." Sam turned and started back to walking. As soon he was on the left path, he felt a tangible bite in the air, a menacing cold. Bobby was right. This place was evil.

A loud, creaking clang resounded from behind them, and Sam spun around.

The gate was closed, shutting them inside the labyrinth.

"Crap," Bobby muttered. "I knew it."


	3. The Battle with the Balrog

**Wow. It's been a long time.**

Chapter Three

"The hard part," Dean repeated. With a sigh, he muttered, "Why do I always get the hard part?"

Seemingly ignoring Dean's complaint, Castiel frowned, looking around with searching eyes. "Dean, have you seen any larger sources water?"

"Larger sources of water?" Dean's frown mirrored that of his angelic friend. "Exactly how much holy water do we need?"

"Like the demons who made it, this creature is not very fond of holy water," Castiel explained. "In fact, the right amount of holy water could kill it, freeing the girl and preventing our flesh from being devoured."

"It devours flesh?" Dean winced.

"Yes. It only needs one soul, and it has one." Castiel nodded toward the girl, who was now crouched on the cobblestone path of the labyrinth, arms wrapped around her knees, rocking and humming tunelessly. "It would prefer to feed on our flesh, not our souls." The angel sighed and looked beyond the girl, peering into the burgeoning shadows. "Dean, this creature is very large. It will take a lot of water."

"Okay. So let's find another water source." Dean took a step forward, green eyes darting around the maze, his fingers tightening around his small flask of holy water. He looked at the little flask and made a face. "Yeah. Let's find a bigger source…"

The ground suddenly shook beneath the hunter and the angel. A low growl, almost like thunder, seemed to vibrate the air around them. Dean shuddered-inside and out. This creature made him feel all kinds of scared. It reminded him of something from Hell… and he would know about that…

"These mazes always have some sort of creepy fountain with a naked angel baby pouring out water or something," Dean spoke up quickly. "Let's find it and- Hey!" He spun on Cas with a worried expression, his veins suddenly shot through with cold. "Cas, naked angel baby statues don't make water holy…"

"No." Castiel paused thoughtfully. Slowly, one corner of his mouth tilted upwards in a half smile. "But real angels do."

"Real angels. Like you!" Dean gripped his friend's arm. "Come on, Cas. It's time for you to go swimming." His eyes darted left to right, trying to discern where to go, which way would lead to the fountain…

"Left." Castiel nodded toward a tall hedge to the left. "There's a narrow opening there. I think I can hear water running in that direction."

Dean nodded determinedly. "Alright. Let's go."

They started across the courtyard. Dean cast a few anxious glances at the captive girl. She seemed to take no notice of them, still rocking and humming, her long hair draped over her face, stirring slightly in the biting wind. And then Dean saw the opening in the hedge and indeed heard the hopeful trickling of water. His spirits lifted, and a little warmth flooded back into his veins. Then-

BOOM!

The ground shook again, this time hard enough to knock both hunter and angel off of their feet. From where he sprawled against the hedge, Dean looked up and watched in horror as the shadows behind the creepy rocking girl convulsed, rippled, then spat forth a huge creature seemingly formed of dark clouds and simmering coals. It brought to Dean's mind a movie he had watched with Sam once. _Now what was that thing called? Oh yeah…_

Turning to Cas and trying to make himself heard over the rich rumbling of the creature's growls, Dean shouted, "You didn't tell me these demons had a freakin' _Balrog _for a pet!"

* * *

Sam swallowed hard, nervous for his brother. He could hear a low, rolling sound in the distance. At first he had thought it was thunder, but now… Now he wasn't so sure. Coupled with the fact that the ground was trembling ever so slightly, he judged that the sound was probably evidence of something dark and dangerous lurking in the maze…

"No sense in worrying, boy," came Bobby's reasonable drawl from behind him. "We can't get to 'em from where we're standin.' We have to keep movin.'"

And Bobby was right, Sam knew. The young hunter nodded. "I know. Let's keep going."

The two of them continued their journey down the leftward path, sharp pockets of cold air biting occasionally at their legs. The path was fairly smooth, but every once in a while, the wheels of Bobby's chair caught on a protruding brick or stone, and Sam caught a muttered curse from his older companion-which made him worry for Bobby almost as much as he was worrying for Dean and Cas…

Suddenly, something brushed against Sam's sense of danger. He stopped walking and turned to hold up a hand to Bobby. "Hang on, Bobby." He turned back around to face the misty path ahead. "Something's not right here."

"Oh really?" From the tone of Bobby's voice, Sam could tell the man was rolling his eyes. "You mean something is wrong-_er_."

"Yeah." Sam nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes on the misty path ahead. He swallowed hard, but that did nothing to soothe his sharp and sudden feeling of fear. "Bobby, you might want to get out a weapon…"

"Already did," the seasoned hunter replied. His shotgun cocked with a familiar click.

"Good." Sam reached into the pack on his shoulder and slowly withdrew a pistol. He tucked it into the waistband of his pants, then reached back into the pack for a vial of holy water, determined to be prepared for anything.

What he wasn't prepared for was a wendigo.

* * *

The huge shadow creature, glowing at the edges, lurched into the center of the courtyard area, towering over its captive soul. The girl in white increased the pace of her rocking, now whispering harshly, whispering in a language Dean didn't recognize.

Dean's grip tightened on the salt-loaded shotgun as he and Castiel inched toward the opening in the hedge. They were almost there—almost _there_—when a rumbling growl alerted the hunter and the angel that they had been spotted.

Dean spun around, pulling Cas with him, so that they were both facing the beast. The hulking shadow fixed its burning eyes on them, and its wide face split in a sharp-toothed grin, revealing a mouth and throat that seemed to be made of fire—and teeth that gleamed sharp.

"Uh… Cas…"

"Talk to it. Distract it," the angel told the hunter, taking a step back toward the hedge. "Shoot it with salt if you must, but that will only slow it down."

The monster took a step toward them, still grinning. It reached out with a clawed hand and pushed the dark-haired girl forward toward Dean and Castiel. At the creature's touch, the girl shrieked, but she obeyed and stumbled forward, glass heels clicking on stone.

"Cas, what are you-?"

"I'm going to try to get to the fountain before the creature gets to you," Castiel explained matter-of-factly.

Dean glanced over his shoulder and past the trench-coated angel, through the opening in the hedge. The opening led to a longer, narrower courtyard, this one empty save for a circular fountain in its center. A laughing, busty mermaid statue poured water from a shell into the wide limestone basin of the fountain. The mermaid was kind of hot…

"Be ready, Dean." Castiel's calm voice jerked Dean from his perusal of the statue.

"Right. I'm read." Dean stepped between the creature and Castiel. "Go now."

Castiel took off running toward the fountain.

Dean drew a deep breath—and hoped to inhale some courage along with the oxygen. "Hey, fugly!" he shouted up at the shadowy beast. "You let that girl go and take a hike back to hell!" He cocked his shotgun and aimed it at the beast's face… if he could call it a face. He could hear Castiel running behind him, pelting toward the fountain.

The Balrog-thing threw back its head and unleashed a bellowing howl that sounded almost like a deep trumpet. Vibrations from the sound shook the maze, and Dean was nearly thrown off balance. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed, with a wince, that Castiel had been knocked to his knees.

The Balrog's captive loosed a sob and fell to her knees, covering her ears and shaking.

Compassion for the girl—and fury for her tormentor—rose within Dean, and he took a step toward her. "Hey, I'm here to help you. Why don't you-?"

The creature laughed, then, and its laugh was worse than its howl, wicked and deep and sharp. This time, Dean couldn't keep his balance, and he stumbled to one knee, the butt of the shotgun banging painfully against his thigh. From the "oof" behind him, he figured that Castiel had fallen as well.

The girl flung herself flat on her stomach, arms outstretched, sobbing.

"Let her go!" Dean shouted at the creature, pushing himself up off the ground.

Still grinning, black saliva dripping from its wide mouth, the Balrog-thing bent over the girl and raised its hand. She flipped onto her back and stared up at the creature with wide eyes. The monster looked from Dean down to the girl, then back to Dean and extended one finger down over the girl, holding it close to her belly. The creature's eyes flickered yellow, and the girl screamed, arching up off the pavement.

Dean's insides twisted. "Stop hurting her, you bastard!" He stepped forward and fired.

The salt round struck the creature in the shoulder, and it staggered back only slightly, but the girl was released from whatever it had been doing to her. Her back dropped against the ground, and she laid panting for a moment, then moaned and rolled onto her side, clutching her belly.

Keeping his eyes on the creature, Dean moved closer to the girl. "Hey, you!" he called to her. "Come over here with me. Let me-!"

"No," the girl moaned, pushing herself up on her arms. She looked at Dean, and her dark eyes were glazed and distant. She shook her head. "No. I can't… I can't." She forced herself back to her feet, wincing and staggering in the glass shoes. She held a hand to her middle, but instead of moving closer to Dean, she stepped back toward the beast, head hanging down, hair falling around her face.

Dean gritted his teeth in frustration. The creature really had the girl in its grip for sure…

"Dean!"

At the sound of Castiel's voice, Dean whipped his head around. His hope flared back to life as he watched the soaking wet angel stagger out of the distant fountain.

Castiel motioned back to the water with his right arm, keeping his left arm close to his body for some reason. "The water is holy now!" he called to the hunter.

Dean didn't have to hear the news twice. He took off running as fast as he could toward the fountain, grabbing up the bag he'd dropped on the way.

"What can I do to help?" Castiel called as Dean came sprinting toward the opening in the hedge.

Before Dean could reply, a heavy force struck him from behind. He fell forward, striking the ground hard, his chin and ribs instantly throbbing. For a moment, bright lights danced in his blurred vision. Gasping, he staggered to his feet, realizing that the creature had struck him from behind.

"Dean! Hurry through the opening!" Castiel cried. "The creature cannot fit through!"

Panting, Dean burst through the opening in the hedge. He laughed as the Balrog roared in frustration behind him, nearly falling again as the roar shook the air. Still running, he reached into his pack, fumbling around until his fingers closed on a cool, rounded object.

"Look out!"

Castiel's warning came just in time. Dean turned to see the beast bursting through the hedge, leaves and sticks flying in all directions. The girl came crawling behind it, and the way she moved made Dean shiver for some reason.

The dark creature swatted out at Dean with a massive paw, and Dean ducked. One clawed finger caught him across the shoulder and sent him sprawling back against the fountain, the hard limestone driving the breath from his body. For a moment, the young hunter was stunned, unable to think of anything but breathing again. His lungs contracted painfully, and he kicked at the stone path.

A cold shadow fell across him, and Dean looked up into the glowing eyes of the Balrog-thing. It was gloating over him, enjoying the sight of him flopping and gasping like a fish out of water.

Water…

Water suddenly sprayed all around Dean, some of it sprinkling the dark creature's feet. The monster hissed and shrieked in pain, backing away from Dean, smoke rising from its burned feet.

Castiel was suddenly between Dean and the creature, his trench coat billowing around him like a hero's cape. The angel held out a hand to the shadow creature and said coolly, "You shall not pass."

Dean wondered if the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain had made him imagine that exact line coming from Castiel's mouth… And as he was wondering that, air finally burst into his lungs, causing him to cough and gasp painfully, but giving him the strength to rise.

The hunter and the beast moved at the same time. Dean reached into the fountain and loaded the empty holy water grenade just as the creature lunged forward, batting Castiel backward with its clawed hand. Castiel tumbled back into the fountain just as Dean drew the now-full grenade out of it. With a cry of both rage and pain, he lobbed the grenade at the Balrog-thing with all the strength he had left in his battered body.

The projectile hit the creature in the center of its chest right when Dean fell to his knees. He watched dazedly as the monster seemed to fold in on itself, its inner fire flickering, its shadowy flesh steaming and smoking. A breathy shriek rent the air as the beast shrank in on itself then melted down, down, down to the ground, leaving behind only a pile of black ash and one smoldering coal.

Then there was silence.

A smoky smell—not entirely unpleasant, Dean noted—drifted through the courtyard.

"Dean? Are you alright?" came a hoarse voice from behind him.

The hunter turned to see Castiel, soaked and shivering, climbing out of the fountain. The angel knelt beside him, and for a moment, the two men just stared at the little mound of ashes.

They both jumped when the dark-haired girl knelt in front of them. Dean noticed, relieved, that her large dark eyes appeared totally normal—and actually kind of pretty.

She looked back and forth between the two of them. "Thank-you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," Dean and Castiel answered in unison.

Then Dean groaned and lowered himself further to the ground. His shoulder burned, and his back, chin and ribs throbbed. He looked at Castiel, who seemed pale. "You okay, Cas?"

Castiel looked down toward the left side of his body, then met Dean's gaze with a weak smile. "I think my shoulder may be fractured. And I am very cold and wet. But aside from that, I am… okay." He sat down gingerly, extending his legs in front of him and keeping his left arm and shoulder very still.

"Yeah, I may have a few cuts and bruises myself," Dean replied with a sympathetic wince. "I guess we should patch ourselves up before we rescue anyone else."

A sharp gasp drew both men's attention to the girl they had just rescued—their first success in the labyrinth, Dean reflected. She held a hand to her mouth, looking at the hunter and the angel with concerned. "You were both hurt rescuing me from that—that _thing." _She shuddered. "Oh, God, I am so sorry. I'll patch you both up. I'll help you. I'll—"

That was when she leaned forward and threw up all over Castiel's shoes.

Dean winced. Again. For a number of reasons. This was going to be one long rescue mission.


End file.
